The Crest of Souls: Return to Oban
by Compulsive Writer
Summary: Lady Arya lost her heart somewhere along the way. As the Great Race of Oban hits full stride, an unexpected friendship between rivals begins to blossom into something extraordinary.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_To put it bluntly… the Great Race of Ōban is a sham._

_Ten thousand years ago, my friends and I tackled the race head-on, not a clue as to what truly lay beyond the finish line. We were led to believe the Ultimate Prize was something that would grant any wish the winner desired. Like a pack of ravenous hyenas, race teams from across our galaxy descended upon Ōban._

_When the truth was revealed, I accepted a terrible burden no one else could, to spare the universe from an unimaginable terror. It was a sacrifice I have never once regretted, despite ten millennia of sadness, so long as everyone else could simply go on._

_So long as _she _could live the life as she deserved, and so desperately fought to restore._

_That's all ancient history._

_Now, as my reign as Avatar draws to a close, it is imperative my successor be chosen. And so, the lie begins anew… just as it has for countless eons, every ten thousand years, since the Creators breathed life as we know into the universe._


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Somewhere on a lonely beach on the distant world Alwas, young Lady Arya danced in the dim pink and orange glow of the setting sun. She knew the somber almond eyes of her beloved king studied her lithe and flawless frame from afar as she timed each fluid movement, without falter, in tune to the silent rhythm engraved in her memory.

The dance was a memory in itself—the art of war, of graceful violence, of steadfast victory—passed down through the ages. Though its origins were lost to the shadows of a history long forgotten, it was a cherished ritual nonetheless. Arya had learned it from her father, and he from his, as it had been passed on down the royal line for countless generations. Often the dancer wielded a blade or a staff or some other weapon when lost in the Song of Ages, but Lady Arya was a knight who would raise no weapon, even to her most hated enemy.

Arya finally slid to a stop, true to the form of the most elegant dancers from her home world, the waves of the white silk of her gown rippling gently about her as the salty breeze caught hold. She held the pose for several seconds as the song in her head ended, replaced by the steady roar of the rolling waves of the ocean behind her. Already she heard a round of polite applause from King Aiden as he strode toward her. She turned to face him, a hand on her breast, intending a proper bow, when she realized the two of them were no longer alone on the beach. As keen as her senses were, she had been caught off guard… by an elderly man with short-cropped silver hair, leaning on what appeared to be an ivory cane.

"Bravo, my dear!" the king said, still applauding. "That was marvelous! Simply marvelous." He glanced to the stranger beside him. "You see, Jordan, this young thing may not look like much, but she is a Knight of Nourasia. More importantly, she is my niece, and the next in line to the throne… barring her aunt bearing me a child of my own, of course!" The good king let out a hefty laugh, his plump belly rolling.

The old man studied her with a small smile on his face, and finally allowed himself no more of a courtesy than a small nod of his head. "And how do you do, my lady?"

"I…" Arya felt her cheeks burning as the old man leaned forward, studying her even closer than before. She longed to take a step back, but refused to show that weakness to a stranger. After all, her uncle seemed to be getting along well enough with him. Instead of backing away, Arya simply averted her gaze. "I'm fine."

"That was a lovely dance."

"Still just a dance," Arya mumbled, studying the sand at her feet.

"No such thing."

She glanced up to him. "What do you mean?"

"I never waste a word, my lady." He smiled. "Let's just leave it at that for now."

"What?"

The old man slipped past her, moving to the water's edge to stare out at the sea.

"Niece," the king whispered as he put an arm around her shoulder and turned with her to watch Jordan as he stood at the edge of the beach and let the warm sea embrace his ankles. "Don't let your eyes deceive you even for an instant. This man is the Avatar."

Arya was dumbstruck. She stared for a long time, trying to reconcile the vision in her head with the scene before her, and she found it utterly impossible. The old man before her was robust and strong, standing tall and proud as he stared out into the sea. And yet, he was still an old man, if not frail. Hardly the regal figure, the picture of supernatural power, she had always believed him to be.

The Avatar had come to her people once before, nearly twenty-five years ago. She'd heard the tale from her father. It was said the Avatar was a being of supreme power, neither male nor female, submerged in light. The coming had left the world in shock, that some omnipotent god would take an interest in their humble planet. This person looked like a mere human, hardly a god. Arya wondered if it was possible her uncle, the good king, had gone mad.

"Lady Arya?"

She blinked up at the Avatar. He was glancing back to her, over his shoulder. She stiffened and swallowed. "Yes… Avatar?"

He cringed, glancing away. "I never much liked that title," he said meaningfully. When he met her gaze again, he was smiling. "Please… call me Jordan."

"Uh… sure. If that is what you'd prefer."

"It is, thank you." He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, studying her with calm, brown eyes. The smile had melted away as he took in her young features, smooth, dark, and exotic. While Arya was tall, he was a good head taller than she, and he towered over the portly king. "So you are the Nourasian pilot chosen to compete in the Great Race."

Arya scowled. "Chosen? I won the right."

The Avatar smiled once again. "So I hear. A hotly contested victory, as I recall."

"You don't know the half of it."

"I think you would be surprised."

"What's your point?" she asked, knocking his hand from her shoulder. She didn't know this person, whether he was some god or just an old geezer with an athletic build. None of that mattered. Arya only knew that she had come to Alwas with a purpose. She wanted to prove her skills. Just being the heir to Nourasia's throne was not enough. "None of it matters, you know. I won the race. It was difficult but I won regardless."

"Of course you did," Jordan said, smiling. "You won fair and square."

"What exactly do you want from me anyway, Jordan?" she demanded, her tone thick with sarcasm. "I've never competed in a race like this before. Surely there are dozens of teams on Alwas more worthy of your presence."

"I'm not exactly here because you are a less experienced pilot, Lady Arya."

"Then why _are_ you here?"

He smiled. "To repay a very old debt."

Before she could ask him what that could possibly mean, Jordan began to glow. In seconds the brilliant white light emanating from his body was so hot she thought it might sear her flesh. She stumbled back a step, covering her eyes as she turned away. She trembled before his presence. In her heart, she knew.

This was the Avatar.

She had heard the stories so often during her childhood they were etched into memory. She couldn't find the strength to look his way, fearful that she would be permanently blinded, or worse. A strong, warm hand rested on her shoulder, offering support; Arya expected to feel the flesh melt right off her bones in any instant… but nothing happened.

Arya glanced up to see the king standing at her side. The Avatar stood stoic, and did not burn her to a crisp. It took a moment to collect her bearings, but finally Arya let herself regain her pride, standing as tall as she dared, and focused her eyes, moist with the tears of the previous shock, onto the golden gaze of the Avatar.

"I… don't understand."

"Please, don't fret about it. It's in the past, Arya. We must always move forward, and not dwell on those things that have already occurred. The past cannot be altered. Life is the future."

The king gave Arya's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Wise words, Jordan. I trust my niece will take them to heart."

The Knight of Nourasia, winner of the right to represent her people in the Great Race of Ōban in her quest for the Ultimate Prize, felt a fool. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened, though she knew it was a futile attempt. In her desperation, however, perhaps she could hold back long enough to spare herself the humiliation of sobbing at the feet of the Avatar.

Still, in his presence, Arya suddenly felt safe as a newborn babe cradled in her mother's embrace. She wiped away a tear before it could slide down her cheek.

The Avatar—Jordan, she corrected herself—rose several feet off of the ground. He gazed to her for several long moments before nodding. "It was a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Arya. I might not know many Nourasians, but I can tell that you are a tribute to your people."

"Thank you, Jordan," she mumbled.

"One last thing before I go. You have the strength required. If you put your heart to it there is no limit as to what you can accomplish. If nothing else should come of all this, please remember that. There is no room for doubt in the Great Race of Ōban." Arya blinked up at him in surprise. "Believe in yourself."

In a brilliant flash of white light, he was gone, and Arya stood along the shoreline with her king. She sunk to her knees in the wet sand and bawled her eyes out.


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Kairo referred to it as "a need for speed". As far as Gwen was concerned, the man was a maniac. She gripped the turret controls so tightly her knuckles were white as the aptly named _Daredevil _barrel-rolled through the third of four checkpoints without slowing, narrowly avoiding scraping the paint job on the titanium gate that marked the course. Though she thought she might toss her cookies, she couldn't help but grin when she caught sight of their closest contender, Tony Garrett piloting the _Barracuda_, some distance behind them. Though she realized he wouldn't be able to see her, but she flashed a victory sign anyway and let out a whoop as Kairo began his mad-dash for the finish line.

So this was it. Gwen thought about all the hard work that had gone into putting the _Daredevil_ into contention for the Imperial Grand Championship, which this year would land the winner a spot in the legendary Great Race of Ōban. Gwen wasn't entirely sure what all that meant, but she could barely contain her excitement. To be the Sol Empire's Grand Champion would be enough for her. Earning a spot in what was said to be the most prestigious intergalactic race in existence would simply be icing on the cake. Of course Kairo, the hottest head in the galaxy, would meet the challenge with the desire of proving he was more than just hot air.

Gwen had been trying to convince him that he was already the best. Trying to prove something that no longer warranted proof would just wind up killing them both… but she supposed Kairo's need for speed had rubbed off on her. Every time she tried to bring it up, he would win her over with that contagious excitement percolating somewhere beneath the surface.

She felt the boosters to either side ignite in a flash of blue energy, and the _Daredevil_ kicked it into a higher gear. In a matter of seconds the _Barracuda_ was no more than a spot in her vision. She grunted. "Geez, Kairo. You could at least _try_ to make it interesting."

His face flashed up before her in the bubble of her turret. "It'll be interesting enough once we get to Ōban and face off with some _real_ competition. The IGC is just another race. Nothing to get worked up over. As long as we're here, we might as well just crush the competition and get it over with, don't you think?"

"If you say so, partner. Still, it'd be nice if we could at least toy with them a little."

He grinned. "We can toy with them all you want… after we cross the finish line."

As the _Daredevil _screamed through open space down the homestretch, Gwen tried to make sense of what he had just said. When it sunk in, her cheeks went crimson. She glanced to see if he was still on her screen, but he was gone. Though she wanted to re-establish the visual and tell him off, Gwen knew there were more important things to worry about. She made a promise with herself to smack him upside the head for his comment.

She slumped against the controls, cool from a lack of use, and watched the world zip by.

And then it was over. Kairo deactivated the boosters just as the ship slipped through the last titanium gate, and brought her to a standstill, hovering in space, just over the arena seats, filled to the brim with spectators from across the Sol Empire. Thunderous applause broke out as Gwen let out a sigh and collapsed back in her seat.

She waited for a time, knowing that the moment really belonged to him. She hadn't fired a single shot, and really she had felt worthless throughout the entire competition, seldom having to use the turret at all. Kairo was a speed demon, preferring to use his skills as a pilot and the top speed of his star-racer to win races, and championships.

She watched the image on her bubble as Kairo rose out of the cockpit, into open air, to the wild applause of what could only be described as millions. A smile finally came to her as she took in his excitement, most noticeably the shout of victory apparent on his face thrust both fists as high as he could into the crisp, cool Canadian air. He was already the best on Earth, the best throughout the whole Sol Empire, but she supposed she could understand his desire to show the world how good, how exceptional, he truly was.

Being the best in the Sol Empire wouldn't ever be good enough. Not when a man was ruled by an ego like Kairo's.

She unplugged the comlink from her ear and slipped out of her chair onto the narrow catwalk leading out of her turret sphere. As she walked out, she saw two other star-racers finally making their appearance in the victor's circle. Second place went to Amelia Cochrane. No surprise there. She was known for closing out races, and had likely overtaken Tony in the homestretch. Right on her tail was the _Barracuda_. She could see Tony in the cockpit, a sweeping grin on his face as he flashed her a thumbs up. Gwen could only grin back and flashed him a victory sign. Then she turned and bolted for the exit.

In the maintenance shaft, she hung a quick left. The ship wasn't big by any stretch, and everything was cramped and dark, but that didn't really matter. In the heat of the race, which was the purpose of a star-racer, after all, nobody ever used the maintenance shaft. She knew the ship like the back of her hand, and traversed the short passage with ease.

She shot up a ladder leading to the emergency hatch atop the _Daredevil_, popped it open, and joined her partner on the makeshift stage. The moment she was through the hatch he engulfed her in a massive bear hug and swept her feet off the ground. She thought she could hear him screaming her name in celebration, but the roar of millions blasting down on them drowned out everything. She laughed, but not hearing her own laughter was a disorienting feeling. When she found her footing a moment later, she turned her gaze to the grandstands, towering high above them. For an instant, Gwen thought she might be standing at the center of the galaxy.

* * *

The roar of the crowd was almost unbearable, but Benedict Reed had watched races like this in the past. None had quite reached the magnitude of this particular venture. Still, a race was a race was a race. He grunted as he watched the victors celebrate atop their ship, the _Daredevil_, if memory served. Benedict wasn't all that interested in the ship. He was much more interested in the pilot. He glanced down at the paper and pen in his hands. It was a primitive way to take notes, but the disturbance of the roar would allow for nothing more sophisticated.

Then he turned and, with the help of two thickly muscled guards, made a quick exit from the grandstands. The moment he was inside the primary tunnel, beneath the grandstands, and alone in his blissful silence, he pulled the earplugs from his ears, he snatched the comlink from his belt. He hit the switch and spoke into it.

A reply hissed in his ears, which popped. He cringed, popping a pinkie in his ear. "Sorry, Arnie," he said. "Didn't get that. Give me a second, please…"

Soon he had recovered his hearing, though his ears still buzzed. He tried the comlink again. "Okay Arnie… what's the verdict?"

"_It's like you predicted, Mr. Reed. The _Daredevil _shattered a track record today. Still, they put a lot of strain on the hull just to get it done. The guy's every bit as good as advertised, but he's a reckless fool. I don't know that he'll last a single race on Alwas._"

Benedict sighed, beseeching forgiveness from the one soul lost to time who might understand his predicament. "I have the same fear. However, there can be no argument… he's at the skill level the Sol Empire needs to succeed in the Great Race of Ōban. I want him piloting the _Hotaru_." He closed his eyes, half expecting a protest, but Arnie mumbled something that could only be described as an affirmation. Benedict gave a nod and spoke into the comlink again. "Very good. It's settled then, Arnie. I'll make preparations to make the offer to the victors during the post-competition celebration tonight."

"_Very good, Mr. Reed. We'll get started on this end. What about this Gwen Alison?_"

"We've got a gunner," Benedict replied. "You know that."

"_Of course sir._"

"This Amelia Cochrane, on the other hand. She's got serious potential. Do what it takes to get her on the team as well."

"_You got it, Mr. Reed._"


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

A nice, hot shower was just what the doctor ordered, and Gwen stood with her eyes closed in easy bliss as the cleansing spray washed away the fears percolating in the back of her mind. Standing in the victor's circle after the Imperial Grand Championship—or the IGC, as it was commonly referred to—had been at best a surreal experience. She'd stood there before, but not with millions of crazed fans breathing down her neck. The entire galaxy knew what it would mean being Earth's greatest champion.

Seven thousand years of hard work, superior technology, and imperialistic expansion across a quarter of the Milky Way had helped to ensure the Empire's dominance of a sport with a concept that spanned the universe. Clearly it had all been meant for something, and twenty-five years ago, the Avatar appeared in Sol City and revealed to Emperor Nero the true purpose behind humanity's ascension to the stars and what he called "eminent superiority".

Gwen pushed her long, white hair back and out of her face and groaned in ecstasy. Though she was not yet eighteen—she would be with the coming of the Summer Solstice, only six short weeks away—the manager had been able to secure her a private suite on the top floor of the hotel which had offered space to racing teams who had competed in the IGC. The perks were topnotch, as they should be, but she had never before imagined she would be staying at such a fancy-schmancy place just a few short weeks ago. Of course, Holland Everett had changed her view of the norm since that day he offered her a position on what was considered among the finest racing teams in the galaxy. Staying in such a place with her parents' shallow pockets would have been impossible, yet she hadn't had to touch her personal account yet throughout the entire venture north, on the Canadian star-racing tracks.

A long shower was only one of the perks, but she considered it to be the best available. Even the gourmet meals three times a day could not compete with this. The workload hadn't exactly been over the top for the gunner, but she didn't let that take away from her experiences off the track. Kairo himself had warned her before she ever set foot onboard the _Daredevil_ two years ago that she was only along for the ride… at least as long as they were on Earth.

Gwen shut off the water and stepped out into onto the bathroom rug. The air outside the stall was cool against her bare flesh, and she stood there for a moment and let her mind wander. In a few hours she was going to be sitting at a banquet table in the hotel's ballroom, and she really didn't want to go. The victory wasn't exactly hers, after all. That honor belonged to Kairo Salvador, the galaxy's most famous star-racer pilot. She tilt her head back and drew a deep breath as she ran her fingers through her long, snow-white hair.

If she had the guts, she could easily come up with some fort of justification just to spend the evening in her room—that the race that had taken a lot out of her or something—but somehow Gwen knew that excuse wasn't going to fly. Kairo would want her there to celebrate right along with him. If there was something about the guy she admired, despite his massive ego, he loved to share the glory.

She wiped the steam from the glass to look at herself in the mirror. The face gazing back bore a disheartened frown, though she really didn't have a reason to feel anything but happy. Why she felt this way, she didn't understand. She was just sad, for reasons she couldn't comprehend. But then again, the truth was all too obvious. She wasn't sad… she was frightened.

They had won the IGC.

She had to admit, Gwen Alison, Imperial Grand Champion, had a nifty ring to it. That didn't mean she would ever dare call herself such a thing, though. Of everything that Kairo was, Gwen was very much the opposite. Maybe that was why he had chosen her as his partner before the last championship.

And now, Earth, the whole Sol Empire, in fact, was theirs.

Gwen realized there was a smile on the face gazing back at her. She reached out and touched the glass, tracing the outline of her lips with a finger.

It was on to Ōban now, wasn't it? The thought was intimidating. Suddenly she realized why she had been frowning a moment before. Her life was getting ready to spin out of her control… as if the past year and a half hadn't been crazy enough.

"Hey Gwen, you in here?"

Before she could answer, the door swung open. Gwen spun around, and there stood Kairo Salvador, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared back at her.

Her face went crimson and she grabbed the nearest thing she could get her fingers on. She chucked the hand mirror, catching him square in the forehead as she screamed at the top of her lungs. "_Get the Hell out, you ass!_"

* * *

"Anybody ever tell you have a cannon attached to your shoulder?" Kairo muttered.

He was lying back on the couch in the main room, using the armrest as a pillow as he stared at the ceiling. Gwen leaned over, gently lifting the washcloth with the chunk of ice away to gaze at the bump. It was going to be a doozy. She shook her head with a soft chuckle. "And you have a peanut for a brain. So what's your point?"

"I guess I'm jealous." He met her gaze with a little smile of his own.

"Just what the heck were you thinking, anyway, walking into a lady's bathroom."

"I have a peanut for a brain, remember? It can only process so much information."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Guess I can't dispute that." She lifted the cloth again to study the big bump on his forehead, and felt a bit guilty when she decided she was proud of herself. Still, he _had_ deserved it. He might even think he'd earned it; no doubt he was a little proud of it himself. _How'd he get in anyway,_ she wondered. Surely she'd locked the door behind her. Her mother always used to say she was a bit paranoid. A paranoid person seldom forgot to lock up when she was staying in a strange place, with strange people at every turn. In fact, thinking back on it now, Gwen specifically remembered locking the door behind her.

She watched him with wondering eyes for several moments before offering him the can of tea she'd brought from the fridge. He took it without hesitation, spinning up so that he sat upright. She didn't mind that it came from her fridge; after all, every expense was paid in full by the Sol Racing Committee.

"Thanks a ton," he said, and cracked the drink open.

She plopped down on the Audubon across from him and opened her own tea. "You're welcome, Kai."

They touched cans in a silent toast and drank. "Heh… not bad." Kairo leaned back, resting an arm over the back of the couch.

"You flew a great race today, Kairo," she commented, propping herself on one arm as she leaned back, resting her head on her shoulder. Silver-white locks fell around her shoulders, a few stray strand spilling across her face as she stared off in thought. She truly owed him her thanks. With the lucrative pay she had earned in training and racing with the man—and that didn't include the spoils of their victories—she was going to be able to go to college. It had been a lifelong dream at one time she had given up on completely. Her parents would be so proud of her when she told them she was finally going to walk that path she so desired. She couldn't wait.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he said, a smirk on his face.

"You know…" She swirled the contents of her can, still staring off into space, cheek still rested on her shoulder as she smiled wistfully. "I guess I owe you one. I never would have dreamed it at all possible a couple years ago, and here we are, champions of the Empire."

"You've been a champion before."

"I know, but now it means something even more. We are going to represent the Empire in the Great Race of Ōban, Kai. I owe it all to you."

"I never had any doubt."

"You never do, but that's not the point." She sipped her tea. "You are the champion. Always were. But the fact you chose me to go along with you for the ride… that's just amazing to me. It means the world. I guess in this case," she said with a chuckle, "that it means the universe." She finally turned her gaze to meet his. "It's a wonderful gift you've given me, Kai. Thank you."

Kairo blushed. "You've thanked me more than enough already."

She smiled. "Well, I hope it was worth it."

"The gift that keeps on giving," he stammered, looking away as he scratched his nose. He was bright crimson. "Can you fix that please?"

"What?" She glanced down and went crimson herself. Her robe had slipped off her shoulder without her realizing it, and though it hadn't fallen so far to reveal anything more, it had given him a rather provocative gaze at a shoulder as she leaned back on her arm. With a yelp she pulled the robe up to shield herself from wandering eyes. "Geesh, this just ain't my day. How embarrassing!"

He giggled.

"_What?!_ It isn't funny, Kairo!"

"But it _is_ worth it." He drained his can and handed it over to her. "I think I've done enough damage to your psyche for one day. But if you feel the need to get me back, my door'll be unlocked all night."

"Why are you telling me that?" she demanded.

"Because I sleep in the nude. Feel free to come take a peek, and then we'll be even."

"Even?! _Even?!_"

She leapt up, prepared to wallop him, but he held his arms out in self-defense as he fought back the laughter. "I'm kidding! Calm down, Gwen, before you blow a gasket!"

"I'll pop your head like a pimple, you little pervert!" she growled. "_Get out!_"

Laughing his fool head off, Kairo tripped over just about everything between him and the doorway as she chased him out of the room. He hollered over his shoulder as he dashed off down the hall: "See you at the celebration tonight, Gwen!"

"You _ass!_" she shouted after him, and slammed the door so hard she thought the whole building might crumble down on top of her.


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"How about a beer, Miss McCallister?"

Jenna was bummed, and though the offer of a beer was tempting, she had to decline. The night wasn't about her, was it? Her champions had come through in the clutch, just as they always had. She'd known they would before they ever took their place at the starting line. Heck, she had known the outcome before they had even boarded their star-racer.

"Just keep your money, Benedict. I'm not the least bit interested in a drink."

She gazed across the room to the table where sat Kairo, Gwen, Tony, Remy, Bronx and all the others she had sponsored, talking and laughing and carrying on like old friends in a high school cafeteria. It made her heartsick that she was going to be forced to go back on her word. Kairo's piloting skills may have won the championship, but Gwen was still a part of his team, someone he'd hand chosen for the job. This wasn't fair.

Twenty years before, Jenna McCallister, along with Abigail Starr, had founded the aptly named McCalliStarr Racing Corporation, the company that had sponsored three of the top five finishers at the Imperial Grand Championship, including the reigning champion for three years running. Of the more than sixty racing teams that had competed, eighteen squads bore the McCalliStarr logo. But would Kairo now, and would he ever again? Jenna was doubtful. Once the Empire put its brand on a product, they never let go.

"This is a bad idea, Benedict. Those two have been a team for eighteen months now. Breaking them up just before the most prestigious race in the galaxy… it's a bad call." Jenna flipped a loose strand of blue hair from her cheek, nestling the side of her face in a palm as she gazed across the banquet hall, to the champions of IGC. "I don't know that this'll ever make sense to you—I find it doubtful because you couldn't care less for the emotional state of a team of star-racers—but if there's anything I know about those kids… it's that they know how to win together. They're a well-oiled machine, Benedict. Don't break them up now."

"Miss McCallister, the choice is already made. I have the order handed down from the Emperor himself. We've done exactly what we declared prior to the competition: the best pilot will be selected to represent the Sol Empire in the Great Race. That is how it will be."

"Gwen is that boy's right arm. She's kept his course true when he could have easily veered astray. This is foolish, Benedict. A championship is the culmination of a team effort maintained from the very beginning, when they first set foot into the same room prior to months… sometimes _years _of training. It's a delicate balance and a change could easily throw it all away just because you fear the gunner isn't carrying her weight."

Benedict snorted. "She didn't even fire one stray bolt from her laser cannon. I for one could not see where else her weight could be redistributed."

Jenna rolled her eyes. This wasn't going to get them anywhere. She knew arguing with an Imperial representative was asinine. The man had already made up his mind. Gwen would be staying home. Now it looked like McCalliStarr Racing would be sitting it out as well. She'd gotten her hopes up, and it had proven too good to be true. The Empire didn't want the best team at all… they just wanted a crack shot pilot. They were trying to catch lightning in a bottle, and though that might have a chance for success in the minor leagues, they were talking about going up against the best of the best, not only in the Sol Empire, but across the galaxy as well. "Asinine" didn't begin to describe the reckless game of chance Benedict was playing now.

There was enough blame to go around, if she thought about it. She'd allowed the corporation to put Kairo up on a pedestal. He was the face of McCalliStarr Racing not only because he was a superior pilot, but also because Abigail Starr and Jenna McCallister had believed it fitting to place him on some sort of altar, to allow him to become a champion of champions, garnering a fix that only winning and a celebrity status could maintain. It didn't have to be that way. They could have brought him up to be humble, but that would have been the beginning of the end of his career. Or so Abigail had believed.

Jenna grumbled in disapproval, and sunk her head down onto her arms, folded before her on the tabletop. "I'll break the news to them tomorrow. Please… for now, just let them celebrate." She turned her head so that she didn't have to meet his gaze as she spoke. "They've earned that much, haven't they?"

"Very well. The ship to Alwas has yet to arrive, so there is time."

"I still say this is foolish."

Benedict smirked. "It may be so. I wouldn't know. I'm just the messenger, Miss McCallister. Though it does look like tomorrow I will be accepting a new position within the organization."

"Damn it," Jenna muttered, closing her eyes. If it was what she figured, and there was no reason to believe otherwise, Benedict was referring to the job, up until a few minutes ago, she thought had belonged to her. "I just don't care anymore, Benedict. If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for awhile."

"You're certain you won't allow me to buy you a drink?"

"There's nothing going on here that's worth raising a glass to," she muttered.

Benedict watched her for several long moments and then sighed. "Suit yourself."

* * *

"Now this is what I'd call a party!" Tony said with a smirk as the waitress with the big rack leaned past him to refill his glass. "Thanks, honey. You can refill my glass any time!"

The bewildered redhead gave him a look, which brought a round of raucous laughter over the table. She flushed at the response and seemed to fumble for words, but Amelia Cochrane brought a hand up to smack Tony in the back of the head, and more laughter drowned out whatever it was the waitress was going to say.

"Don't mind ol' Gawkin' Garret here, suga. He tends to lose his place wheneveh a pretty girl comes about. One moment he's Tony Garrett, hotshot star-racin' extraordinare, and the next he reverts back to Captain Caveman, looking to give anything that jiggles a wallop upside the head so he can drag her back to the pit of despair. Honestly, Ah don't understand how natural selection could have possibly passed this guy up. It's a real mystery, don't cha think?"

Laughter exploded across the table. Gwen was crimson though she was certain nobody was really paying any attention to her. All eyes were on Tony Garrett, and he must've been brighter red than she. The rest of the room was undoubtedly watching their table, which served as the place of honor for the top five finishers of the IGC. Gwen wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She couldn't possibly imagine how embarrassed Tony must be.

He wet his lips and drained his glass. "Can I… uh… have another, please?"

More laughter. Amelia slapped the poor fool on the back as hard as she could. "That's the spirit! Drink up! Though Ah hafta tell ya, there ain't so much as a drop of alcohol here tonight, so y'all perversions can't just be explained away like some ole drunken tirade."

Gwen rolled her eyes.

"Well, I can't say anything about his taste in chicks," the waitress said, blushing.

If the house hadn't already been brought down a moment before, they now sat in the rubble of absurdity. Gwen didn't exactly get it herself, but everyone else had a good long laugh, raising their glasses, slapping the table with open palms, letting loose wild cheers that somehow hadn't already been exhausted despite the craziness of the day behind them. The waitress poured Tony another glass. They were both beaming, both bright red, and Gwen could have sworn the waitress had edged a little closer than she had been the first time she'd poured him a drink. Tony's foolhardy grin could only confirm her suspicion. Gwen decided she must be very bold.

She sipped her drink. To her right, a silent champion watched her every move. Kairo hadn't said a single thing to her, even since arriving to her room thirty minutes ago to bring her down to this series of one debacle after another. She figured he was still embarrassed over the incident in their room in the afternoon, after they managed another victory in the final race that morning. She was a little surprised to realize that he, like her, hadn't laughed during the interaction between Tony and the waitress. Whether that was because he didn't find it funny or he was too busy watching her, Gwen couldn't tell.

When a hand rested on her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her seat. She spun her head around to stare up at culprit when Jenna McCallister's voice boomed over the laughter at the table. "Hey kiddos! Terrific race you all ran today! You've done the sport proud!" This sent the rowdy bunch into a round of cheers, to which Jenna laughed and lifted her voice to speak over. "Terrific race! Believe you me, whether you fly for McCalliStarr or not, you're _all_ star-racers this day!"

Gwen was bright red. "Miss McCallister!"

"Gwen Alison!" Jenna shot back, and gave her flushed cheek a pinch. "Sweetheart, you work your ass off for this company so don't argue with me. Just enjoy the moment. You're a champion! Let it sink in, even if you know it'll never last."

"I just…" Gwen averted her gaze.

"So? How does it make you feel?"

Gwen fumbled for a response. "I don't… I'm just glad Kairo asked me to come along for the ride, that's all. It's like having a front row seat, you know?"

Jenna smiled. "Is that what you really think?" Gwen frowned, but before she could answer, the blue-haired beauty had turned her sparkling eyes to the others, taking in each youthful gaze with a whimsical smile. "It was a great race, truly extraordinary, all of you. The competition was spectacular this year. Unfortunately, it can't go on forever." She gave Gwen's shoulder a squeeze. "Nothing ever does. The truth is, for most of us, that journey ends now. We can't all go to Ōban, after all."

Gwen eyed Tony. The pilot had wanted so badly to represent the Sol Empire in the Great Race, though it had been nearly a forgone conclusion that Kairo would win the race again. It was, after all, his third straight championship.

"Let's face it," Jenna continued as she leaned into Gwen and gave her a hug from behind, resting her cheek to the young gunner's. "Life seldom goes according to plan… but that _is _what makes it interesting, after all."

* * *

Gwen didn't grasp the significance to what Jenna told them just then, but somewhere across space and time the truth lingered, and one man turned god allowed reality to consume him. Jordan C. Wilde, Avatar incumbent, opened his golden eyes and drew his gaze over the crystalline casket in his private chambers nestled deep within the labyrinth below the Pyramid of the Heart, on Ōban.

He rested his palms against the crystal-clear surface and put his face close to the surface. There, as if cast within the crystal, was a slender young face, calm, lost in some distant realm of dreams. He drew a deep breath, hating himself in that moment for what he was about to do… despite knowing that his options were few.

The pale flesh might cast the shadow of death upon anyone else, and perhaps his knowledge of her predicament obscured appearances within his mind, but as far as he was concerned… this one sparkled with life as purely as she had on the day of her birth.

"I need you now," he said gently, letting the power of the Avatar consume him completely. "Please, forgive me for what I am about to do."

The glow of his power extended beyond himself to embrace the casket. The pale flesh flashed a brilliant white, so white that he could feel the heat of it even against his own glowing frame. The chest of the small girl rose with a soft gasp as life embraced the sleeping form for the first time in nearly ten thousand years.


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

So it was finaflly over. Gwen Alison sat in the silent dark of her hotel room, waiting for the food synthesizer to convert the proper ingredients into the hot chocolate she'd ordered, all the while wondering what had just happened to her. She'd come to the IGC to be with Kairo as he raced off to intergalactic greatness, fully expecting to go with him when he ventured out among the stars. Though she believed she would go along with him to Ōban, she'd known all along it wasn't a requirement for his greatness, and so she supposed she really couldn't be surprised to learn the government had dropped her involvement entirely.

Kairo could win without her, after all. In fact, she was certain… Kairo _would _win the Ultimate Prize with or without her. No matter, not in the end, she decided. She would bid him a fond farewell regardless. She wanted a front row seat for when the ship came down to take him away. That simple, pleasurable thought brought a smile to Gwen's face. Maybe her adventure was over, but Kairo's was just beginning, wasn't it?

Her smile faded. Here, in the privacy of her thoughts, Gwen was shaken. The two had been through a lot together, an inseparable pair. Kairo's second championship had been Gwen's first, but they had trained for six months prior. Afterwards, over the course of the past year, they had trained even harder. The culmination of their efforts had led to their second title, and Kairo's third overall.

However, their partnership was no more. The Empire didn't need her, according to Jenna. Hell, they didn't even need McCalliStarr Racing. They only wanted Kairo. Not that Gwen could blame them for that; the man was special, a wizard in a star-racer's cockpit, simply sensational. If the rest of the world could be so impressed by his skills, it should seem only natural that the Sol Empire came to the same conclusion… shouldn't it? Gwen realized she didn't really know anything about those in power at the head of the Empire, but she did know Kairo, that he knew well what to do when the chips were down. He didn't really need her at all.

So why did she feel so much like crying? If logic dictated the Empire pluck only what suited their purposes from the whole, then they had done the right thing, hadn't they?

The sound of a liquid spilling into her mug brought Gwen out of her silent brooding. A timer chirped, announcing the completion of her cocoa. She lifted her hot chocolate from the pad and drew in a deep breath, allowing the sweet vapors to fill her lungs and ignite her senses.

If nothing else, Gwen decided, by the end of the day she'd gotten what she'd wanted all along. She'd done something sensational, after living a bland life at home while her widowed mother spent most of her waking hours at the office, only a few blocks away from her lonely daughter, though given the time they actually spent together, she might as well have been light years away. Not unlike Kairo, she decided, when he was off racing for the Ultimate Prize.

Gwen sipped her steaming cocoa and sat back with a heavy, satisfied sigh.

So what if her future was uncertain now as it had been on that day Kairo tapped her on the shoulder and announced she would be his gunner for the Imperial Grand Championship? That was why she enjoyed racing so much in the first place. The sense of uncertainty made her heart race. Kairo put it best: "The race is a strange combination of excitement and fear as mind-numbing speed lifts you up off your butt, spinning you into all the dimensions of chaos you never knew existed." The man's reckless nature was something she had come to embrace, just like the race, even if he was not exactly the epitome of the perfect star-racer.

She looked into the monitor on the coffee table, leaning forward. "Call Mom," she said in a loud, clear voice. The screen lit up in response, displaying the familiar logo of the hotel along with the marquee "Request Acknowledged – waiting for connection" scrolling across the bottom of the screen. She knew before she got the next message—"Connection Failed"—that her mother wouldn't be answering her call, and Gwen sipped her hot chocolate in silence for a long time, resigned to her fate. She was simply destined to be lonely forever.

* * *

"This is pretty much bullshit, you know that?"

Amelia shrugged. "Yeah, but whatcha gonna do, huh?" She paused and sipped her scotch and watched as her friend stared off into the darkness. He gave no indication that he'd even heard, and so, swirling the contents of her glass, continued in a soft tone. "Look, sugah… you gotta be honest with yourself. Ain't nothin' you can do, is there?"

"More than what I'm doing right now? No, I suppose not."

Amelia tugged on a lock of curly, raven hair.

"Well, at least you'll be there," Kairo admitted, glancing her way. It was the first positive he had found in the whole situation, Amelia noted. At least, it was the first positive he was willing to acknowledge, and that was a step in the right direction. "You've always brought out the best in me… more so than any of the other pilots."

"Ah work mah butt off like all the rest of ya."

"Of course." Kairo sipped his drink. "I knew there was a reason I liked trailing you more than any of the others."

She cast him a sidelong glance. "That sp'osed to be some crack about mah tush?"

He snorted. "Honey, there's only one ass crack I can think of right now… the one I need to plant my boot into."

She frowned, looking back to her glass. "Benedict."

"That's the one."

Amelia smiled at Kairo's sense of honor. He'd worked his butt off to get to where he was, and he wasn't about to forget the one who he claimed to have been the heart of his team since she'd joined the staff that had transformed _Daredevil_ from a unproven wreck into a beautiful work of art on the racetrack. She realized Gwen Alison must have done a heck of a lot to seize the loyalty and trust of a man like Kairo Salvador.

"Can't say Ah blame ya, sugah," Amelia mumbled, and then lay her head on the tabletop and stared silently at the swallow of scotch in her glass. Kairo, too, sat silent, ignoring the passage of time as evening turned into early morning and beyond.

* * *

She didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, still dressed in her silk blouse and tight blue jeans, staring at the "Connection Failed" message scrolling beneath the hotel logo on the monitor. Gwen forced herself into an upright position. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, creating a loud "clucking" sound as she opened her mouth to yawn. She smacked her lips, cringing at the filmy taste in her mouth, regretting that she'd fallen asleep before she'd thought to brush her teeth the previous evening. She rolled her shoulders back, relieving the stress on her muscles, listening to the soft, satisfying "pop" of aching joints.

The door chimed at her, and Gwen blinked. It registered then that in the dark fog between dreams and the waking world, she'd heard the same sound. In fact, that was why she'd been stirred from sleep, wasn't it. Someone was waiting for her at the door.

Wiping away the last of the sleep from her eyes, Gwen staggered to her feet. She waited momentarily to be certain she had her balance before starting forward, stumbling over the coffee table on her way to the door. "Shit," she muttered, right as the merry little chime played once again. "All right, all right! I'm coming!" She longed to swear an oath to rip the lungs out of the sad individual who had selected the door chime, but realized that he wasn't the one at fault for her current predicament. Had she just gone to bed at a normal time like a regular human being…

The door chimed again.

"Yeah, well, _bite me!_" she snapped.

A poor decision, she knew, as her head had begun to pound. With a groan, she rubbed her temple and reached blindly up to slap the keypad that controlled the door, and it slid open.

Jenna's smiling face gazed back at her. "Perfect," she grumbled to herself.

"I'd love a bite!" her manager said. "What's for breakfast?"

Gwen stared up at the older woman. "I don't think you understood me," she grumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to check in on my star gunner."

"Retired gunner."

"Oh, don't talk like that. You have a lot of good years left…"

Gwen snorted out a laugh. "Bullshit." She stalked away, leaving the door open behind her. "If you're coming in, close the damn door behind you."

"Such a mouth!" Jenna said, though she did enter, hitting the control without a second glance so that the door slid shut behind her. "If your momma were to hear you talk like that."

"What do I care what she thinks anyway? Won't even answer her damn phone."

"Oh, come on, Gwen," Jenna said gently, crossing the distance between them to brush a strand of silver hair from her face. "Your momma loves you, you know that…" The gunner sighed and nodded as she gazed up to Jenna's smiling face. She realized that the manager's eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying. Gwen wondered if she'd gotten a wink of sleep during the night. She realized suddenly that she must look much the same to Jenna.

"What are you _really _doing here?" Gwen asked finally, taking the edge from her tone. It wasn't Jenna's fault her world was tumbling out of control.

"The Avatar's ship is going to be here this morning. Don't you want to see Kairo off?"

Gwen stared at her in astonishment. "So soon?"

Jenna beamed. "The Great Race is upon us… or so I hear."


End file.
